


One Egg Short of an Omelet

by lulu-writes (luluwrites)



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Swapfell, And By Meet-Cute I Mean You Commit A Technical Felony Together, F/M, M/M, Meet-Cute, One Shot, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader-Insert, Swapfell Papyrus - Freeform, Swapfell Sans, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 17:33:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13792668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luluwrites/pseuds/lulu-writes
Summary: After being caught doing absolutely nothing and getting kicked out of the house for the night, Papyrus decides to buy several dozens of eggs and take out some stress on some poor shmuck's house. He didn't anticipate you coming to that same house, finding him currently egging every single window, and then joining in with your killer aim and contagious laughter.





	One Egg Short of an Omelet

There were few times that Sans actually threw his weight around the house. All in all, he was content to let Papyrus do what he want, so long as it didn’t directly affect his work ethic. The recently-reappointed head of the Royal Guard was often tasked to shadowing the queen alongside her personal bodyguard, which left Papyrus with a very empty house and very little to do. Of course, Sans had extended the invitations to him on more than one occasion but, in the year after Chara had freed the monsters from Underground, the meetings were far too involved to hold his interest when he wasn’t directly involved. 

But Sans had come home early from an international conference and found Papyrus slothing about the house, disheveled and miserable, and officially banned him from the house. “AND DON’T YOU _DARE_  GO TO MUFFET’S! CHANNEL YOUR ENERGY INTO SOMETHING OTHER THAN DRINKING AND PROJECTING YOUR FEELINGS ONTO RANDOM, UNDESERVING HUMANS.” Which had been the first time Sans had ever really pointed out his shitty coping mechanisms and, uh, it had stung pretty bad. Bad enough that, when he left the house, he didn’t even take his shortcut to Muffet’s out of habit. 

Almost stubbornly, Papyrus circles their house, like a dog that’d been put out for bad behavior. He cringes at the metaphor- after his failed stint as part of the Snowdin Guard, it wasn’t inaccurate to say he was often _barking_ up the wrong tree. Yeah, he really did deserve this one. The giant barbecue stain on his shirt and the fact that he smells like a Frisco sour cocktail was definitely too much. He’d planned on cleaning up before Sans got home but…

Well. Guess it was going to be a night on the town, then.

He wanders around uselessly through their neighborhood- after a few odd glances and watching as cars slowed down as they passed him, he’d zipped up his jacket. If he had skin, it’d be crawling. There were few things that made him more uncomfortable than several people looking at him at once- sure, sometimes he’d bury his problems in a one-night stand, but _that_  was drastically different from the burning looks of passerby.

So the usual means of channeling his simultaneous loneliness and detachment was out the window. Quite literally, considering that he’d fallen out of their first floor after Sans’ lecture, to his brother’s mild panic. He’d pulled him back up by the ankle, but Papyrus kept trying to crawl away from him (partially out of shame, but more so because he was grimy enough that he didn’t want Sans to _see_  him like this and he was drunk enough to move on impulse), which dragged some of the foliage from the bushes outside the window into the house… He’d quickly dropped him and simply let Papyrus sort himself out. And he’d sorted himself right out the door.   

It might’ve been the leftover bourbon from the cocktail, but he ends up at the corner store, a strange feeling of euphoria in his veins. It’d been _years_ since he pulled a dumb prank like this… Years since Undyne hadn’t attached live flamethrowers to her home just in case he did something like this. He blew six gold on four cartons of eggs and was going to wreak havoc on some poor shmuck’s house. 

If Undyne hadn’t moved in with Alphys, who he’d seen benchpress a car, he _definitely_  would’ve tested his aim on her new house on the Surface. If only for old times’ sake. And also, maybe, to see if his best friend was still up to her old antics and making killer defensive traps like she’d always wanted to. After what he’d seen with Dogamy and Dogaressa, he was always a little nervous about bonded couples- he pulls out his phone and makes a note to check on her in the morning, after he’s taken a shower and doesn’t look skeletal ransom note covered in barbecue sauce. A real feat, balancing the egg cartons on one arm and penning a reminder on his phone while walking. 

After he finishes setting the reminder and pockets his phone, he realizes that, by walking in a straight line, he’s ended up in a part of the neighborhood he doesn’t recognize. At least, not at 11 PM, he doesn’t recognize it. In front of a dull green house with paled yellow shutters, he has the crowning realization that no one’s home. He sets the boxes down on the ground and pops one open with its creaking styrofoam sound. Picks one egg up, examining it. 

Then he throws it as far as it can go- it splatters on the leftmost window, eggshell scattering into their bushes. Papyrus can tell by the weight of his arms, how everything feels both too heavy and too light, that he’s _definitely_ still drunk but damn if this isn’t the most fun he’s had in weeks. He laughs and tries to launch two eggs at one time, even though one just falls out of his weak grasp. 

He’s onto his fifth egg when he hears someone start walking up and, about to shortcut out of sight, he’s stopped short by your laugh. 

Your semi-hysterical, oh my  _God_   _I can’t believe this_ laugh. “Holy shit.” You say, and he whips around, wondering who would laugh in response to seeing a strange skeleton egging their house. “Oh my god- I was just trying to get my stuff back from him, but what did he do to _you?”_ Your laugh gets loud enough that you start snorting, then you try to turn your face away from him. He can’t help it- you surprise a laugh out of him. 

He doesn’t know what you’re talking about but… “hey, you want a go? i’ll _egg you on_.” You start to laugh harder and he launches the one in his hand higher than he wanted it to go- it skims the second-story window and lands on the roof. When you finally calm down (after wheezing and brushing tears from your eyes), you lean down and grab one of the eggs. You toss it up into the air, like you’re testing the weight of it then, with a half-step and powerful baseball throw, launch it directly at the lower window. 

Just like every one of them before, the runny yellow yoke stains the paint and the bright white eggshell sticks to it. You turn to him, surprised and laughing, rocking on your heels. “Holy shit! That was-” You give a shaky and large hand gesture. You look fairly rattled, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Eggs-elent! You mind if I…?” 

“knock yourself out.” It’s almost more fun to _watch_  you throw the eggs- he had just been doing it to do it, but you seemed to throw like you had some vendetta against the house. He watches as you do a baseball player’s stretch and then sling an egg over and into the bushes. It misses, and you look disheartened. He feels the need to cheer you up, if only slightly, “good idea- they won’t notice until it starts to rot.” 

You raise your eyebrows at him, and you bubble out a laugh. You pick up an egg and, to deflect from your surprisingly infectious laugh, he picks up one and aims for the porch. “Really- who _are_ you? What’d Jason do that you’re egging his house?” 

“who the hell’s jason?” He asks, which you must’ve taken as another joke because you laugh again. 

“You’re right! Who the hell _is_  Jason!” Your throw actually splits the yoke right in the middle of a window. You introduce yourself, running your hand across the back of your forehead and leaving some of the sticky white on it. You don’t seem to notice, or mind. 

“name’s papyrus. uh…” As much as he doesn’t _want_  to know, he kinda wants to know what kind of douchebag must live in this house that some stranger would join a stranger to egg his house. “so, what’d jason do to you?” 

“He’s my piece of _shit_ -” You punctuate your sentence with another egg. You finished off the carton and you shoot him an apologetic look. Wordlessly, he opens the next one and offers it to you. “-ex-boyfriend. We used to _live here together-”_ Another egg, this time on the door. You have killer aim. “-but he broke up with me over text. And changed the locks. And kept _all_  of my shit. Threw my clothes out on the lawn, kept my tv and my headphones and my computer…!” You trail off, as if it were a long list of things and, stars, what an asshole. 

“shit, that kind of week, huh?” That’d explain why you look terrible- he wasn’t in any position to judge, but he definitely has some sympathy for your dark circles and uneven smile. You look like you’re about the same level of strung-out as he’s felt for the past few weeks. Papyrus nods to himself, thinking. “hey, does he have a security system?” No close neighbors, _and_  it was fairly dark…

You snort. “Too cheap. Nah, nothing like that. But he should be heading home soon, if you want to hike it soon.” 

“damn, at least allow me a finale.” To your absolute wonder and excitement, he lifts the remaining two egg cartons with magic and, like he was sparring with Sans, opens the carton and sends the two dozen eggs sailing at the house in a barrage of yellow and white. The door, completely covered with egg, looks like he’d tried and failed to make scrambled eggs. You clap for him, a fast theatrical clap that gets him to smile back at you. 

Just as he starts to see someone’s headlights turn into the neighborhood. “ _Shit_ , let’s go!” You swing your arm low and pick up all of the containers in one foul swoop and, stars, he _could’ve_ just taken a shortcut back to his house and leave you like a deer in the headlights, but he finds himself caught up in the moment, running alongside you. He feels young and weightless and, suddenly, he understands what humans mean when they say they feel ‘out of their skin’. He pulls his hoodie over his head, knowing the headlights would’ve reflected and he would’ve been spotted immediately.

You’re in your casual clothes, however, with no chance of disguise. Without really thinking, he reaches out and pulls you closer to him, hiding you in his shadow two steps ahead. You both keep running and running until his ankle bones start to ache a little and, when he turns around, he sees that you both weren’t even pursued. He slows down, then laughs when you continue to still run. He calls out your name with a laugh, doubling over and resting his hands on his knees. “he wasn’t even chasing us…!” 

“Well! I wasn’t about to risk it! And check!” You’re as out-of-breath as he was, and just as pumped full as adrenaline. He feels your hand on his back, patting at him and laughing. “Not exactly what I was going to do when I came to his house but I guess some things are just…” You make a gesture at him. 

Destiny? He hadn’t believed in that since he was a babybones and Sans used to have the time to read him stories. He straightens his back, stretching and taking even breaths. “wouldn’t say we were meant to cross paths. just seems like jason was just due a really bad day, i just ended up being the one to _socket_  to him.” He winks at you, and you give him that lopsided smile. 

“Still. I really… uh… appreciate it? I mean, we totally just committed a misdemeanor at the very least, but I’ll take it to my grave if you do- this was. I don’t know.” You cross your arms and smile at him- a full smile, but a shy one. It’s been a while since someone’s looked at him like that. “You said your name was Papyrus?”

“yup. i live down the street. sort of.” He just realized that he’s a _lot_  farther from home than he thought he was. “listen, i had fun. this was… this was fun. uh. vandalizing your piece of shit ex-boyfriend’s house.” It was weird, doing this without the fog of drinks over the both of you- his well of charisma feels like it’s run dry. Not a lot to drink from when he wasn’t trying to get someone into bed, as it turns out. “so. if you want to… do it again…?” 

“Pft, I don’t think so- I think if we did this again, we’d probably get caught _eventually_. But, uh, if you wanted to hang out again, I can give you my number.” You put your hand out, palm-up, and he puts his phone into your hand like he’s handing over a sensitive diplomatic treaty. 

When you give it back to him, you’ve set your name as ‘Hard-Boiled’, and his head snaps up to look at you, an incredulous look on his face. “i love it.” Papyrus shoots off a text to make sure you got his number and, when your phone buzzes in your pocket, you give him a thumbs up. “well, it’s pretty late, now- i can walk you back to your car, if you’d like…?” 

“If you wouldn’t mind- I’m staying with a friend until I can get my own apartment, so I drove over here in her car.” You stuff your hands in your pockets, rocking a little on your feet. “I parked a little bit away, so I wouldn’t mind someone walking with me. In the dark. In this unfamiliar neighborhood.” 

“cut it with the _ribbing_ , you already had me at ‘wouldn’t mind’.” Again, he thinks about how easy it would be to just… take a shortcut. But he almost doesn’t want this adrenaline-fueled rush to end. “so, about your douchebag ex-boyfriend. you wanna talk about it?” 

“You wanna listen?” You ask, sounding surprised. It kind of hurts to hear that disbelieving tone in someone else’s voice instead of his own.

“what? i may be all bones, but i do have a bleeding heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> a request done on [my tumblr](http://squeletter.tumblr.com)! i do some of these to practice my characterization for these boys for my other story, [bones, picked clean](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11692404/chapters/26323746).


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